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Bigfoot

Santa is coming. I hope he brings me a new car for Christmas. The check engine light has been on in my car for a few years. It is German-made, too complicated to fix, or maybe I’m projecting. My dog, Louie the fourteenth, is my main passenger, which is why my swanky dash is covered with dog hair. We travel country roads every day and when he sees a cow, he barks and licks his lips. When we get to the park he jumps from back seat to front seat eager to get out and walk and have a dooky. If someone is watching I just keep pulling him forward while he is going because I’m not picking it up. What’s one dog turd going to hurt when there is duck poop everywhere? The sun is out, the sky is blue, we are on our walk, it’s a good day.

Like this:

The cycle of life and death continues all around me. The leaves fall and cover the grass that my father worked so hard for decades to maintain. Everybody who lives in this old house has to deal with the leaves falling down. It’s tempting to leave them there, but then the grass will die, and by March, the yard will be a brown muddy mess.

Although I don’t like the fall and winter, this year I am looking forward to sharing Thanksgiving with my roommate. We will see how many vegetarian dishes go well with gravy.

Like this:

One winter many years ago, I put a noose around my neck and stepped off a chair.
My weight snapped the thin rope almost immediately, but not before the pipe it was tied to pulled out of the ceiling and sprung a leak. Somehow I had scraped my wrist. A bead of blood came out of the scratch, and I put a Band-Aid on it–with antiseptic.
Boy! Did that sting!

As winter approaches, my good mood deteriorates and here I am again thinking, get the rope out.
But, I know from experience– I can’t do it.
I’m chicken, and I can’t afford the plumbing bill.
Spring will return. Carry on.

My dog, Louie, was on his third bowel movement at the park. A woman was watching us, so I got behind Louie and blocked her view, giving Louie some privacy. But, there was just a small fart and no dookie– a kind of misfire much like when I go.

“Aren’t you going to pick it up?” yelled the lady from one hundred feet away.
I walked towards my car, and she yelled again, “Pick it up, you jerk! You ruin the park for the rest of us.”

When I was younger, I would get angry and insult the wrong people, lost good jobs, and got in all sorts of trouble. I looked at that lady and yelled,
“Fuck you, you old hag, mind your own business.”
Somehow, I briefly felt younger. She said she was calling the police, and I yelled,
“I don’t care if you call Obama.”

I got in my car and backed up as she walked towards my car, writing down my tag number. It flashed through my mind to back the car up over her. But, that sort of behavior is way behind me.
I am a wise old man now, so I drove forward and headed home.

Like this:

I started blogging because of my niece. When she was visiting a few summers ago, I mentioned that I wanted to publish a book of jokes. “How about a blog?” she countered.
“I don’t know anything about computers,” I said.
She said, “Just send me all your funny stuff. You’ll be famous in five years.”

So, she set me up with a free WordPress account and a password that I could remember easily.
I email her my posts and she edits them. Sporadically, I pay her $1 per post, but it must be error free and well-titled, tagged, and categorized, or no dough.

Two and a half years in, I now type at least ten words per minute, and
I’ve gotten over 6000 views with hundreds of likes.
I’m not in it for the fame, just to make people laugh once in a while.